For Thine Is
by 10millionpeople
Summary: "I could spit in the face of God while Jesus rode in on a white horse to take all of the people who aren't me and him up to Heaven and he still wouldn't be worthy to look at me." Remus wants a response from Peter. / Post-2nd rise of Voldemort.


**A/N- Yup. It's not Harry/Hermione. Or Remus/Hermione (which, I might add, is my new OTP! idk, I love the age difference plotline). Or even romance at all. I am *tear* so proud…**

**Disclaimer- We have been through this. I own not Harry Potter, or The Hollow Men (T.S. Eliot).**

_Here we go round the prickly pear  
__Prickly pear prickly pear  
__Here we go round the prickly pear  
__At five o'clock in the morning._

"Do you remember when we were innocent? When all we knew was sneaking out after curfew hours, praying that the blasted Mrs. Norris didn't alert Filch and Peeves hadn't discovered any new pranks that he needed test subjects for? When 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' was chanted like some foreign prayer to a mispronounced god and all of us said it at least seven-times-seventy times a day and none of us really knew how utterly serious that non-serious phrase would be for one of us?

_Between the idea  
__And the reality_

"Do you remember when life flew by? When we all had a grip on _our_ life and knew where _we_ were going—one of us nightclubs, one of us a marriage license office, one of us a library, one of us university—and thought we knew where the others were going, but never actually hit the nail on the head? Before it ended up more like _one of us Azkaban, one of us heaven, one of us seclusion, one of us The Dark Lord_, but none of us ever did very well in Divination despite the grades Professor whatever-her-name-was gave us. (Most of it was just random words slurred together in dream diaries brought on by lack of time for homework after Quidditch practice and too many shots of Firewhisky at the Hogs Head.) Before we were all too naïve to think that one of us—one of the _Marauders, _one of the _best stuff on earth_—would turn on another and change everything so quickly?

_Between the motion  
__And the act  
__Falls the Shadow_

"Do you remember when we were loyal? When we would stick by each other, no matter what? (At least, loyal until Snape asked us a question in potions—if that happened, we were on our own.) When we would rather our shirts be stained red until we had to bleed out the truth than voluntarily give up the life of a friend and when we would go to the ends of the earth to save a life, and expected the other three to do the same?"

_For Thine is the Kingdom_

He shakes his head slowly and I stand up in rage, my voice becoming gruff with wolf-like growls. _Oh, _I'm sorry_! Did I make you uncomfortable?_ _Good. _He looks at me. He's not worthy to look at me. I could spit in the face of God while Jesus rode in on a white horse to take all of the people who aren't me and _him _up to Heaven and he still wouldn't be worthy to look at me. Not because I'm great. Because he's _awful._

_Between the conception  
__And the creation_

"I know that you were protecting yourself. Don't get me wrong, _selfishness_ is one of your best qualities—I'd say some of your worst, but there seem to be too many to muster." His pose still holds the same blank expression like someone took an emotion vacuum and swiped it good all over his body. "I just never knew you would _send James and Lily to their graves_ to protect yourself! I want you to know something, _Judas_,"—I pause—"I loved them. I loved all the Marauders. I loved _you_ until you and your little Death Eater friends took everything that was good in my life from me! Bellatrix, Lucius, Voldemort"—I see him cringe at the name, God only knows why—"just to name a few. I never thought you'd go through with it. You were always such a follower."

_Between the emotion  
__And the response  
__Falls the Shadow_

He still just sits there, legs swinging off the edge of his small cot in his smaller room, staring at his feet as if they're the most interesting thing in the world and I'm the disease you catch from throwing a glance in its direction. But I don't need his glances. Like I said, he's not worthy. I just wish he'd react _somehow_ to these words that are probably cutting into me more than him. The insults have no effect and I don't know why. I don't know a lot of things, lately.

_Life is very long_

I'm starting to think that maybe, our breaths are measured out more than we assume. And maybe, life isn't much more than celebrating Christmas and sputtering your lips at babies because it sounds like a motorbike.

_Between the desire  
__And the spasm_

But then I remember that I'm too smart to think like that. I know the real world. I am staring it straight in the face and he won't move a muscle. I fight the urge to slam him up against the brick wall behind us and make him etch "I must not tell truths" over and over again on a sheet of paper with Dolores Umbridge's quill.

_Between the potency  
__And the existence_

"Tell me," I growl out, my fingers a blink away from curling around his throat and squeezing until the circulation cuts off. "How can you live with yourself knowing the only people who truly cared about you are dead by your hand?" I chuff. "James and Lily are pretty obvious, no? _You sold them to Voldemort_." Another cringe. "And hell, as far as I'm concerned, Sirius and I died with them that night. I have nothing else to live for. But I'm better off than you."

_Between the essence  
And the descent  
Falls the Shadow_

He sits there. He sits there, and I swear, I can smell Jesus wafting off the prison walls compared to him. These cold, unforgiving, seething, bleeding stone barriers could be seraphim in disguise because right now, the man in front of me is Satan himself—as sure as day. He's worse than Voldemort. He's worse than anything.

_For Thine is the kingdom_

I get angry. My brooding is doing nothing to relieve the waft of a headache his indifference is causing (I was so sure that he would react somehow, the wimp that he is.) and I'm getting impatient. "Say something," I snarl.

_For Thine is _

"Never… never meant to…" He won't look at me. He has to look at me, worthy or not.

_Life is_

"Never meant to what? To kill them? _To execute your only friends?_ Give it up, Pettigrew. You're done with." I'm getting madder by the second, but his presence is doing something horrible to my wolf instincts. It's almost as if I can't control them…

_For Thine is the_

His innocent voice is back. It makes me want to kill him Muggle-style just to feel the life being drained from his godforsaken corpse. "I was always called Peter… come on, Remus…" He twiddles his thumbs. "What happened to calling me Peter?" He shuffles his feet midair.

_This is the way the world ends_

I chuff. "Peter was the awkward little boy who worshipped James Potter like a Greek god and thought Lily Evans was the prettiest eleven-year-old he'd ever met. Peter was the naive little kid with a round tummy and too-shy eyes that never looked straight into another's. Peter was the innocent soul that was slew at the hands of Lord Voldemort when his eviler side turned over. Peter was the savior. Pettigrew is the killer." He finally looks at me, and I finally snap.

_This is the way the world ends_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_This is the way the world ends_

And Remus just became Lupin.

_Not with a bang but a whimper._

**A/N- Whoa, got a little angst-y there at the end, huh? That kinda slipped put, haha. And sorry if you think Peter—'scuse me, **_**Pettigrew**_**—is OOC, but that's how I pictured he and Remus' meeting (if there was one). Him being all shy, and Remus going all wolf!Remus on him. So, hope you liked ^^**


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